Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  need in me too great to take slowly.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt, jerking it from his pants. The warm

  rain caressed his skin, but when she stepped close to rub her

  breasts against his chest, he knew steam rose in their wake.

  “There are no losers. In this, we both win.” Her lips, wet

  and hot, touched his. They needed no words, for a flood of

  desire shook them even as the thunder shook the heavens.

  Michaela’s fingers threaded through his hair as she kissed

  him, and Logan sensed her desperation. Wanting to prolong

  their passion, but unable to withstand the hunger, he fumbled

  with the buttons on his trousers, jerking the wet fabric open.

  Bunching Michaela’s skirts up around her waist, he found the

  hot, moist center of her, unimpeded by undergarments. One

  touch told him she was more than ready. He slid his hands over

  her bare buttocks as she kissed a fiery path across his jaw and

  down his neck.

  “It is your fault I’ve lost my control and forgotten all my

  manners, but we will discuss it later.” With total abandon,

  leaning against a tree in the rain, Logan lifted her hips to his

  and thrust upward.

  “Logan,” she cried against his neck, biting him in her

  passion. She then arched back, legs clutching his waist as his

  hands supported her weight against him. Unleashed passion

  consumed him as her body clutched around his. He bent to

  capture her slick breast in his mouth, the contact inciting a

  frenzied reaction.

  “More, please, I beg you,” she cried.

  Her hips arching against his punctuated each word as she

  created a whirlpool that pulled him deeper and deeper into her

  depths. Her eyes widened, her face glorious as passion swept

  through her. Her release triggered his own explosive climax.

  “Love me, Logan, as though there were no tomorrows.

  There’s only now—this fragment of time we’ve been granted.”

  In that moment of his deepest need, he couldn’t discern

  whether the moisture shimmering in her blue eyes was

  raindrops, or tears.

  Eleven

  Drenched to the bone and exhausted, Mica and Logan

  sneaked into the house just as the clock struck midnight. Logan

  insisted she dry off and crawl beneath the warm covers. He

  promised to return to her later.

  “There are business matters I must see to before market

  day.” He sat on the edge of her bed, bending to place a gentle

  kiss on her lips.

  Mica wanted him to stay, and almost begged him. But she

  bit back the words. In a few short days, she would be gone,

  and Logan would have to conduct business and provide for his

  people. She had no right to claim his time, no matter how she

  ached to keep him with her throughout the night.

  He smiled mischievously. “Though my business intentions

  were good prior to dinner, it seems I became slightly distracted.”

  “Only slightly?” Mica teased.

  His warm lips trailed a breathless path up her cheek to her

  ear. “Your wanton behavior will keep my dreams warm through

  the coldest night.”

  “That’s better,” she replied, willing to let him have the

  advantage.

  It seemed Logan had other ideas, though, and continued to

  test her limits. “The next time we need rain, I would prefer you

  dance completely naked, for surely the rain god could be no

  less pleased with your luscious form than I. The way the rain

  caressed your bare breasts, and the taste of it on your skin—”

  Mica clamped a hand over his mouth, but couldn’t conceal

  his laughing eyes.

  When she removed her hand from his mouth, he said,

  “Never fear. In just a short while I shall return to make sure

  you’re completely dry.”

  Mica couldn’t see him leave through the mist of unshed

  tears. The instant the door closed behind him, she burst into

  sobs, stuffing the corner of the pillow into her mouth to muffle

  the sound. But nothing could stop her heart from breaking.

  “Aunt Theo, I will never forgive you.”

  Although she cursed her dear aunt soundly, she knew the

  fault to be her own. Only a month ago, she had laughed at

  Katie’s foolish idea that she might find the man of her dreams

  at Sea Crest. Now, within a matter of days, she would have to

  give up that dream to pursue her life—her responsibility-filled,

  dull life.

  ***

  Much later, as the moon broke the cloud cover to wash

  across the bed with silvery light, Logan watched Michaela

  sleep. Her pale face, streaked with dried tears, tore at his heart.

  A moonbeam glinted off the key that lay on the table beside

  the bed. Again he considered insuring she remained by his side,

  but he knew the choice must be hers.

  He shrugged out of his clothes and slid into bed, pulling

  her tight against his heart. If his love couldn’t bind her to him,

  he would be lost forever. He didn’t even know how much time

  they had left. She had never said, and he feared asking.

  It was like stumbling across your own marker in a

  graveyard. Your name and birth were clearly written. The only

  fact lacking was the date on which you ceased to exist. Logan

  was positive his heart and soul would leave with Michaela.

  “Trust in the Lord,” his mother had always told him, even

  on the heart-wrenching day of his father’s funeral. Somehow,

  Logan didn’t think the Almighty had planned on Michaela

  Marie finding a breach in His grand scheme of things.

  He thought of waking her and making love to her again to

  prove she belonged with him. Although he realized she already

  knew of his love and returned it wholeheartedly, he feared it

  wouldn’t be enough in the end.

  The night passed, but Logan didn’t sleep. The moon

  disappeared from view and cast the room in total darkness.

  Still he held her close, memorizing her face, caressing the silk

  texture of her dark hair. He recalled how she’d tuck it behind

  her ear, not even aware of the endearing gesture. Though her

  eyes were closed, he could visualize their vivid blue twinkling

  at him in laughter as she teased him, or turning dark with passion

  as she loved him.

  “I love you so much,” he whispered against her hair.

  “I know,” she answered, her voice sleepy, as she turned in

  his arms. Her warm, naked body slid against his with perfection.

  “And I will love you until my dying day. My heart will remain

  here with you always, even when—”

  “Don’t!” Logan refused to allow her to say the hurtful

  words out loud. With unerring precision, he molded his lips to

  hers.

  He worshipped her body, kissing every part of her, bringing

  her to a crest of passion. Only when she sobbed his name in

  her ecstasy did he enter her, driving deep to mesh their bodies

  into one. Hoping to get her with child, if that were the only

  way to bind her to him, he climaxed, hot and throbbing and

  wanting still more of her.

  He collapsed against her, t
ucking his face into the curve of

  her neck, nibbling at her skin.

  “Dear Lord, what’s to become of us?” Her ragged sob

  reached him over the pounding of their hearts.

  Rolling to his side, he hugged her close. Though he had no

  answer for the fear she voiced, he somehow needed to reassure

  her. “Shh, sweet one. It’ll be all right, I promise you.” The

  salty taste of her tears left a bitter ache in his heart.

  A tentative knock at the door jerked Logan upright. When

  he didn’t answer right away, the knocking became insistent.

  “Mister Logan, you in there?”

  Logan recognized Ezra’s voice and scrambled to pull on

  still-damp trousers. Ezra never came into the main house, much

  less to interrupt Logan in the middle of the night. He fumbled

  for his watch. Dawn was two hours away. Dread washed over

  him.

  “What is it, Ezra?” he questioned, throwing the door open.

  He quickly glanced back at the bed, hoping Michaela was

  covered, but at the moment not concerned about the propriety

  of his being in her bedroom.

  Ezra stood twisting his hat in his hands and shuffling from

  one foot to the other. “They done it again, Mister Logan. Bad

  this time.”

  “Done what—did what?” Logan stomped into his boots as

  he spoke.

  “It’s bad.” The old black man hung his head in sorrow.

  “We had a guard posted, like you said, but Henry found Arthur

  with a knot on his noggin’ when he went out to take his place.

  Arthur come ‘round, but don’t recall nothing and nobody, it

  being dark and all.”

  “Ezra, get to the point. What happened?” Logan cared about

  Arthur, but since it appeared the man was all right, he needed

  to know what new disaster had struck.

  “The indigo, Mister Logan. It all been smashed to pieces.”

  Ezra almost cried as he spoke the words.

  “Oh, God,” Logan moaned, racing down the hall and

  forgetting all else in his hurry.

  ***

  Mica squirmed restlessly on the bed as Logan spoke with

  Ezra. Unable to get dressed with the door wide open and the

  foreman in view, she waited in agitation until Logan raced away.

  Now, as she tore through her clothes to locate a skirt and

  top, she prayed the damage wasn’t as bad as Ezra had indicated.

  Poor Logan! All his hard work—all the loving care he took

  with his plantation—only to have someone destroy it.

  The entire household was astir by the time Mica flew down

  the stairs. Mattie, in nightcap and robe, lit lanterns as her

  husband, Simon, struggled to hitch up his suspenders. Lana

  and Annie stood nervously twisting their hands.

  “Hurry, Simon,” Mica called over her shoulder, grabbing

  a lantern as she raced out the door. The instant she stepped

  onto the drive, she began to curse. She’d forgotten to put on

  shoes. After hopping her way across the crushed shell, she ran

  through the grass at the side of the drive.

  When she rounded the bend, it became immediately

  apparent exactly where disaster had struck. The drying shed

  glowed with the light of a dozen lanterns, and dark shadows

  were racing back and forth past the windows. From this

  distance, she couldn’t see Logan, but knew he’d be right in the

  middle of everything.

  Mica gasped upon entering the shed. Tray after tray of dye

  cakes were upended, the indigo smashed on the floor or lying

  crumbled on broken racks. The air, thick with a blue haze,

  choked her when she tried to breathe.

  Logan’s workers were silent as they worked to set the shed

  to rights. Even as they worked, Mica saw their gazes shift

  continuously to the man who stood in the middle of it all.

  Dear Lord, it’s so unfair, she silently cried as she watched

  Logan survey the damage. He’d been so proud of his

  accomplishments earlier that night, and now his shoulders

  slumped in defeat. Tears filled her eyes as he bent to pick up

  one of the larger pieces lying at his feet, only to crumble it in

  his fist.

  A small cry escaped her when his gaze caught hers across

  the room. His eyes, usually so full of laughter and life, now

  appeared sunken and hollow with despair. He looked at her,

  yet Mica doubted he saw her at all.

  She reached a hand out in supplication, but he ignored the

  gesture. His face, contorted with tightly controlled rage, was

  unfamiliar to her. Mica, fearing for him if he released his anger

  on some unsuspecting person, walked slowly towards him. The

  others backed away when they caught sight of Logan, but Mica

  didn’t fear for herself. If she had learned anything at all in her

  time at Indigo Bay, it was that Logan was a gentle man, not

  prone to violence. Even to the extent to which this catastrophe

  had pushed him, she knew he wouldn’t harm her.

  “Damn them to everlasting hell!”

  Mica jumped at his bellowed expletive, but she stood her

  ground even as he hurled a clump of indigo against a far wall.

  The solid thunk seemed enough to break him from his stupor,

  and he began storming up and down each aisle.

  “Logan, what are you looking for?” She had to get him to

  talk. If he didn’t, he would surely explode even more.

  “Evidence! Proof! Anything to tell me who wanted so

  desperately to destroy me that he would destroy the entire

  island!”

  He picked up a cake of dye, but apparently found some

  flaw for he carelessly tossed it back into the pile on the tray.

  Mica followed him as he wandered aimlessly back and forth.

  “You can’t find anything in the dark,” Mica protested, even

  as she scoured the edge of a tray for fingerprints. She realized

  that would do Logan little good since fingerprint identification

  had yet to be invented. “There isn’t enough light to see

  anything.”

  She touched his shoulder, her voice gentle. “Come back to

  the house, Logan. It may not look so terrible in the morning.”

  He turned on her, eyes flashing fire as he shrugged off her

  touch. “That’s easy enough for you to say. You can go back to

  your nice, safe life and forget about us. I have to find a way to

  put food on the table and clothes on the backs of these people.

  I have responsibilities.”

  Devastated, Mica’s mouth dropped open as Logan ranted

  at her, then spun on his heel and stormed outside. She watched

  his rigid back until he became swallowed by the night. He had

  responsibilities—like she didn’t know what the word meant!

  Mica started to yell out to him, but she held her silence as she

  once again surveyed the insurmountable damage.

  Logan had every right to be angry—furious, in fact. She

  had been an available target for that anger, and she really

  couldn’t blame him for lashing out. If a disaster of such

  proportions had happened to her, she probably wouldn’t have

  been as nice about it.

  As she reflected on what he had said, she thought of a way

  to help him. She hurried
down the aisle to the door, anxious to

  explain her plan.

  Mica found Logan leaning against a tree—their tree—his

  head bent, his shoulders slumped, and his hands stuffed into

  his pockets.

  Although he didn’t look up at her approach, he

  acknowledged her presence by saying, “I apologize for my

  behavior just now. I had no right to take my anger out on you.”

  His voice cracked, and Mica realized how hard it was for

  him. Not the apology, but the feeling that he somehow had

  failed to live up to his obligations.

  “Oh, Logan, this is not your fault. No one could have

  predicted something like this might happen. We just have to

  make it right.” She allowed a small amount of enthusiasm to

  enter her voice as her idea took concrete form in her head.

  “I’ve come up with a plan.”

  At least he raised his head to look at her, and she hurried

  on, hoping he wouldn’t take offense at her offer. “I can help. I

  have loads of money, and quite a few stocks that can be cashed

  in and...” His look stopped her in mid-sentence.

  “Loads of money? And how will that help me? We’ve

  already discovered that some things don’t travel through time

  very well.” He held his hands up in a gesture that encompassed

  himself. It was the first time he had actually admitted what had

  happened to them.

  Before Mica could respond, he added, “Have the notes of

  currency not changed over time? If so, they won’t come back

  to my time. And even if they did, the dates on your money

  alone would make them nonnegotiable.”

  Mica sighed. He was right. Even if she could bring

  truckloads of money back, his bank would consider it some

  kind of hoax.

  Logan pushed away from the tree, stuffing his hands once

  more into his pockets. He turned away from her, staring back

  at the drying shed, where lights still flickered as workers tried

  to clean up the mess.

  She tucked her arm through his, resting her head on his

  shoulder. This time, he didn’t shrug her away, and Mica was

  glad she could offer him this comfort, at least.

  “This plantation is my life. It’s not just pride in producing

  a product for which the world clamors. It’s knowing I can take

  care of the people who depend on me.”

  “Didn’t you say there would be another harvest?” Mica